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"You nearly lost a tooth back there, Mac."

"Hey, it's hard to dodge, okay?!"

You were lecturing Little Mac, now the ultimate champion of the boxing world. He had just triumphed over Mr. Sandman, and seeing how he had clobbered all the other boxers to make his way to the top, that was no small feat.

Little Mac was a mess. His face was unnaturally lumpy and purple, and his raven hair was a tangled rat's nest. Even his eyebrows weren't the same. He was trying to brush it off and put on a brave face, but putting on a brave face made him wince.

"That guy was a harder hitter than Aran Ryan!" you exclaimed, soaking a washcloth in the nearby sink. You walked back over to Mac, sitting down on a stool in front of him. "He could have hospitalized you."

"But he didn't, (Y/n)," Mac said, pointing at you with his finger. "That's what matters, right?" He tried to flash one of his winning smiles.

It didn't work.

You leaned forward, trying to get at a nasty cut on his chin with your washcloth. Mac leaned away, covering his face like a fussy child.

"Come on, Mac. Please?" you asked, holding up the towel and pouting. You tilted your head down slightly so you could use the best of your big, (e/c) eyes.

The champion boxer sighed. "Okay, fine," he sighed, defeated. "I'll let you play doctor, geez..."

You ignored his comment, wiping away the blood coming out of the cut on his chin. You were gentle, trying to cause as little irritation to Mac as possible. When the cut was clean, free of excess blood and unnecessary clotting, you reached into the little white box at your feet. Your hands found a wide bandage, and you brought it up to Mac's face.

"Okay, hold still..." you mumbled, placing the thick strip onto his chin. Mac hissed quietly, but still held firm to his spot. You smoothed the white bandage out, making sure there were no air bubbles.

"Alright, that's done..." you mumbled.

"Yeah, now I'm all fixed up, I gotta go talk with Doc, SEE YA!" Mac rushed his words quickly, standing up and whirling around, beginning to walk out.

"Oh, no, you don't!" you called after him, grabbing the strap on his black top, pulling him back. "We're not done here yet!"

The boxer groaned, throwing his hands down and tossing his head back. He plopped down on the bench in front of you nonetheless, frowning.

You giggled slightly. How was it possible to not laugh? The champion of the boxing world, he who toppled many boxers, acting like a whiny little kid. It was adorably hilarious.

Mac looked over your shoulder, watching as you dug through the cupboard above the sink. You hummed with achievement as you pulled out what you were looking for: ointment. You walked back over to Mac and squirted some of the pasty substance on your finger.

"This'll stop the bruising..." you said quietly, dabbing some of the stuff on Mac's face, then rubbing it in with two fingers. You did this with every bruise on his face. Finally, you carefully applied it to his swollen eye. You were careful here, not wanting to get the ointment in his eye. Which is very pretty, by the way.

His eyes were an awesome combination of blue and green. Their electric blue irises were somewhat distracting. They were just that pretty--

"ARGH!"

"Oh, no!" you gasped, pulling your hand away. Little Mac recoiled, covering his eye. You jumped back just as fast, covering your mouth. He pulled his hand away, and the whites of his eyes were turning pink.

"Mac, I'm so sorry!" you said. "I got some stuff in your eye, didn't I?"

"It's fine..." he murmured, wincing and holding his eye. "What else...?"

You blushed, still anxious about his eye, but you went back to the cabinet all the same. You thought an ice pack would get in the way of training, so you decided not to give him one. Your eyes turned back at Little Mac, who was still holding his eye. Then your attention went to his hair.

You snapped your fingers subconsciously, and instead reached into a drawer next to the sink. You extracted a small instrument and brought it into Mac's view: a comb.

Mac sighed irritatedly. "C'mon, (Y/n), really? A COMB? I let you play doctor, but hair stylist? I don't think so."

You smiled. "But big famous star Little Mac has to look good for the camera!" You picked up the stool and brought it behind the boxer. "Besides, if you don't tend to it now, it'll be impossible later."

You situated yourself behind the young man, who was blushing a storm. Then you raked the comb carefully through his short, raven locks. The little plastic comb did a surprisingly good job untangling his hair, breaking apart the locks that had almost fuzed together. You moved from the part in the back of Mac's head, to his bangs, and finally the back of his neck. You smiled as you pulled the comb away.

"All done."

Mac felt the back of his head, his eyes widening when he felt his smoothed hair. "(Y/n), how--"

"Don't tell anyone," you interrupted, standing up and walking off, tossing the disposable comb in the nearby trash bin.

~Later That Night~

Little Mac pressed the wet towel to his face, looking up into the mirror of the bathroom. He was surprised to see the bruising and swelling of his face had gone down quite quickly. He subconsciously touched his face, touching a single finger to his previously black eye. Your treatment was no magical potion, but it did its job.

The famous boxer exited the bathroom, heading to his room for the night. He rubbed his forehead, sighing and yawning, eager for sleep.

You passed by him, dressed in a white camisole and shorts. You smiled at your friend, taking note of his significantly better looking face. You walked over to him and did something that you weren't fully aware you were doing, because you were sleepy.

You kissed Little Mac on the cheek.

Your bare feet padded away from the boxer, and you distractedly waved your hand.

"Goodnight," you said, yawns mixing with your words.

Mac touched the place you had kissed him, blushing madly. Giddily, he made his way to his room, thinking of your cute face. He was sure he'd have good dreams tonight.

~

And the next morning, when Little Mac woke up, the bruise on his cheek had disappeared.

Description
"You nearly lost a tooth back there, Mac."

"Hey, it's hard to dodge, okay?!"

You were lecturing Little Mac, now the ultimate champion of the boxing world. He had just triumphed over Mr. Sandman, and seeing how he had clobbered all the other boxers to make his way to the top, that was no small feat.

Little Mac was a mess. His face was unnaturally lumpy and purple, and his raven hair was a tangled rat's nest. Even his eyebrows weren't the same. He was trying to brush it off and put on a brave face, but putting on a brave face made him wince.

"That guy was a harder hitter than Aran Ryan!" you exclaimed, soaking a washcloth in the nearby sink. You walked back over to Mac, sitting down on a stool in front of him. "He could have hospitalized you."

"But he didn't, (Y/n)," Mac said, pointing at you with his finger. "That's what matters, right?" He tried to flash one of his winning smiles.

It didn't work.

You leaned forward, trying to get at a nasty cut on his chin with your washcloth. Mac leaned away, covering his face like a fussy child.

"Come on, Mac. Please?" you asked, holding up the towel and pouting. You tilted your head down slightly so you could use the best of your big, (e/c) eyes.

The champion boxer sighed. "Okay, fine," he sighed, defeated. "I'll let you play doctor, geez..."

You ignored his comment, wiping away the blood coming out of the cut on his chin. You were gentle, trying to cause as little irritation to Mac as possible. When the cut was clean, free of excess blood and unnecessary clotting, you reached into the little white box at your feet. Your hands found a wide bandage, and you brought it up to Mac's face.

"Okay, hold still..." you mumbled, placing the thick strip onto his chin. Mac hissed quietly, but still held firm to his spot. You smoothed the white bandage out, making sure there were no air bubbles.

"Alright, that's done..." you mumbled.

"Yeah, now I'm all fixed up, I gotta go talk with Doc, SEE YA!" Mac rushed his words quickly, standing up and whirling around, beginning to walk out.

"Oh, no, you don't!" you called after him, grabbing the strap on his black top, pulling him back. "We're not done here yet!"

The boxer groaned, throwing his hands down and tossing his head back. He plopped down on the bench in front of you nonetheless, frowning.

You giggled slightly. How was it possible to not laugh? The champion of the boxing world, he who toppled many boxers, acting like a whiny little kid. It was adorably hilarious.

Mac looked over your shoulder, watching as you dug through the cupboard above the sink. You hummed with achievement as you pulled out what you were looking for: ointment. You walked back over to Mac and squirted some of the pasty substance on your finger.

"This'll stop the bruising..." you said quietly, dabbing some of the stuff on Mac's face, then rubbing it in with two fingers. You did this with every bruise on his face. Finally, you carefully applied it to his swollen eye. You were careful here, not wanting to get the ointment in his eye. Which is very pretty, by the way.

His eyes were an awesome combination of blue and green. Their electric blue irises were somewhat distracting. They were just that pretty--

"ARGH!"

"Oh, no!" you gasped, pulling your hand away. Little Mac recoiled, covering his eye. You jumped back just as fast, covering your mouth. He pulled his hand away, and the whites of his eyes were turning pink.

"Mac, I'm so sorry!" you said. "I got some stuff in your eye, didn't I?"

"It's fine..." he murmured, wincing and holding his eye. "What else...?"

You blushed, still anxious about his eye, but you went back to the cabinet all the same. You thought an ice pack would get in the way of training, so you decided not to give him one. Your eyes turned back at Little Mac, who was still holding his eye. Then your attention went to his hair.

You snapped your fingers subconsciously, and instead reached into a drawer next to the sink. You extracted a small instrument and brought it into Mac's view: a comb.

Mac sighed irritatedly. "C'mon, (Y/n), really? A COMB? I let you play doctor, but hair stylist? I don't think so."

You smiled. "But big famous star Little Mac has to look good for the camera!" You picked up the stool and brought it behind the boxer. "Besides, if you don't tend to it now, it'll be impossible later."

You situated yourself behind the young man, who was blushing a storm. Then you raked the comb carefully through his short, raven locks. The little plastic comb did a surprisingly good job untangling his hair, breaking apart the locks that had almost fuzed together. You moved from the part in the back of Mac's head, to his bangs, and finally the back of his neck. You smiled as you pulled the comb away.

"All done."

Mac felt the back of his head, his eyes widening when he felt his smoothed hair. "(Y/n), how--"

"Don't tell anyone," you interrupted, standing up and walking off, tossing the disposable comb in the nearby trash bin.

~Later That Night~

Little Mac pressed the wet towel to his face, looking up into the mirror of the bathroom. He was surprised to see the bruising and swelling of his face had gone down quite quickly. He subconsciously touched his face, touching a single finger to his previously black eye. Your treatment was no magical potion, but it did its job.

The famous boxer exited the bathroom, heading to his room for the night. He rubbed his forehead, sighing and yawning, eager for sleep.

You passed by him, dressed in a white camisole and shorts. You smiled at your friend, taking note of his significantly better looking face. You walked over to him and did something that you weren't fully aware you were doing, because you were sleepy.

You kissed Little Mac on the cheek.

Your bare feet padded away from the boxer, and you distractedly waved your hand.

"Goodnight," you said, yawns mixing with your words.

Mac touched the place you had kissed him, blushing madly. Giddily, he made his way to his room, thinking of your cute face. He was sure he'd have good dreams tonight.

~

And the next morning, when Little Mac woke up, the bruise on his cheek had disappeared.